June 24, 2008

Death is always shocking to mortals, though they are finally meant for it. In the journey of life, we meet a number of people. With the passage of time, we forget most of them. We remember a very few people, more because of their deeds and personal attachment. The Telugu film industry has one such person: He is P.K. Mallikharjuna Rao, 375-movies-old. He wrapped up his journey in just three days, a sudden entry into a hospital, slipped into coma and left for the land of no return. An artiste’s final show in real life!

Love for the Bay of Bengal
Born on December 13th in early 1950s at nondescript village near Anakapalli in Vizag district, he showed little interest in studies, but lived in the area of stage plays. His student days were smeared with a wide travel primarily in three districts – East, West and Vizag. His love for fine arts remained as large as the Bay of Bengal, which he would never miss to watch for a couple of hours whenever his eyes met the horizon. “Watching the sea is like meditation. You don’t see anything, but the meeting of heaven and earth. That is the point where all of us have to stand one day.” Those who are closer to him can remember these words. Rao made up his mind to continue the film-career after doing a small role in Sitara (1983). He loved to be called as Battala Satyam, the name of the character he played in Ladies Tailor (1985). During his two and half decade screen journey, he never had a single foe, but all friends and admirers. Though a comedian on the screen, he ever remained a dignified individual in real life, away from controversies and greed. He never craved for roles, but took whatever that was given.

Did he foresee his end?
When news broke out that Rao was suffering from leukemia, the film fraternity was shocked – the man never told it to anyone. A severe diabetic, Rao maintained a perfect order to check the bodily disorder, always kept an agile stance in the public, laughing bigger at times. “Malli Kalusthamandi” – He wouldn’t miss to say this while departing. He is a completely devotional man. Let he visit any temple, he wouldn’t return without getting sufficient prasadam for distribution to the people, whom he loved most. He maintained a unique style of enjoying loneliness, often. Sometimes, he would ask the driver to park the vehicle and tell him: “Take this (Rs. 50 or 100) and have lunch. Veelaithe oka dammu kooda peekandi.” So saying he would love to sit in tranquility. Did he know that his time was waning?

Keep this for coffee, not tea
All through his life, he never missed his native place. Each time, he returned from his place, he would cast that lively looks, vigorously interacting with people around him. Seeing the security guards wherever he went, he would shake hands with them and each time enquiring about their families and their health. A big lover of coffee, he would give them small amounts, mostly below Rs. 50/-, saying: “Keep this for coffee.” (As against the regular word Tea). Each time they declare. “He is one and the only artiste, who really respects us.”

Nestling in heats of poor artistes
Last year, when a poor lady artiste from Chennai broke her forearm and got admitted to a private hospital in Hyderabad, she called many an artiste, whomever she knew, but “none turned up.” Fresh from his worship at a temple, Rao rushed to the hospital and paid the bill. Not only that, he pooled up some amount for her decent living. He took personal interest in calling a number of poor and downtrodden artistes, prompting them to enroll for the health insurance scheme with the Movie Artistes Association. In some cases, he visited their houses and shelled his personal amount to help them get passport size photographs for the scheme. He played a vital role in introducing a sort of pension-scheme for the rundown artistes. Though he had quit the stagecraft long ago, it filled the casket of his memory.

Never a seeker in his life
More than anything else, Mallikharjuna Rao will be remembered for his humanism in real life. Now-a-days, it’s a struggle for existence for the comedians or to that matter any artiste in the face of monopoly by a few. “Several of my friends scold me for being reserved. They ask me to approach producers personally to get more and more roles. But, I never did. I came to film industry not sell myself. I am content with what I have,” he said to a gathering of his colleagues on a drizzling day in October 2006, when he won the election for a key post in the MAA.